


i will buy you a new life

by badAquatic



Series: Trailerstuck [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Generation Gap, Illustrated, Slice of Life, Teen Pregnancy, Troll families sure are weird!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of a certain redblood teenager.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will buy you a new life

**== >Aradia: Conquer the demon Nausea Gravidarum**

 

Monday May 14 2128

8:58 AM

You lie on your hard bed, frozen. Move too fast and you’ll puke. Got to take this on one leg at a time. Slowly, you slide out of bed and wobble to your feet. You try to maintain your balance as you stumble into the hallway. Alright. You got out of bed. One challenge conquered and onto the next, which  will be getting to the kitchen to make green tea with ginger and lemon without passing out. You ease down the hallway. One leg at a time. Stay upright. Don’t look down. Just go one leg at a time..

Your mother saunters through the front door. She wears a man’s shirt that’s three sizes too big and sneakers. A marijuana cigarette is stuck between her lips. She looks at your daily struggle to walk without falling over and cackles. She mocks you in Old Alternian, the Eastern Dialect—the only language she speaks to you in,  

“No school today? You should just give it up. Why even bother going anymore now that you have that meek blueblood tethered to you? You could be oinkbeast ignorant and live fat off the money he’ll make with his machines in the factories.”

“Oh, fuck you, you old rancid bitch.” you hiss back in Old Alternian, “If you knew anything about Equius you’d realize he doesn’t want to waste his life away in those death traps like every other soul in this mobilehive clusterpark. He wants to help people, not just earn a paycheck. But you wouldn’t understand that, now would you?”

Your mother grins. “You speak so bitterly in the language of your ancestors.”

“You push me to it.” You walk through the kitchen doorway, growling.

“I push you into the role you were _born_ to play, you shitty brat.”

You’ve learned over the years that calm salvation lies not in weed but tea. Your cupboards are stuffed with tea in cardboard boxes, in mixed tins and packets printed with English and Modern Alternian: green, black, white, oolong, yellow, red, rosehip, chamomile, ginger, peppermint, barley. A whole hemospectrum of teas for you to drink down.

You make a quick cup and drink it down. It’s sweet and milky and enough to ebb away the everyday irritations of your mother. It’s just enough to wind your gears and continue with the day. You finish draining the cup of herbal soaked water and place it in the sink for future washing. You should shower before your mother uses up all the hot water to spite you.

 

9:17 AM

You kill a very large rat that had been lurking near your toilet. You double-bag the dead rodent in a plastic bag and take it to the garbage can on the curb. You’re lucky tomorrow is garbage day and that the pest won’t be rotting in the can and attracting all the Tinkerbulls from here to Park Avenue. Stupid garbage eating pests. You have trouble deciding which is more annoying to put up with: roaches, rats, or Tinkerbulls.

You walk back inside the trailer and see your mother has passed out on the couch. Troll Maury is on the TV; the watermark caption in the corner stating that this episode’s conflict is “My 14 year old dresses like a stripper and has freaky sex with a troll!” On screen is a girl with makeup plastered on her round face and hair hardened with gel to keep the curls firmly in place. She wears a filthy tank top and proclaims to the audience that nuh-uh ain’t nobody gonna separate her from her man—no matter how much olderhe was. Or that he already had two grubs to deal with it. He was still her man.

 _Wait a minute_ …there’s something familiar about this girl. Something about her face...  

Your hearts sinks a little in your chest when you realize you know this girl from school. Beck Stevenson. She used to live on Anderson Road before dropping out and running off to go squat in Aniline End. If what Kanaya said was true, she had a serious soporin habit—which would explain her reddened nose, puffy eyes, and living in a place like Aniline End. Only two sorts of people lived there: addicts and ex-cons with nowhere else to go.

You shut off the TV before anymore of this show pollutes your mind.  

 

10:07 AM

You wake up from your nap when your huskdroid vibrates besides you. You’ve learned to sleep with it in your palm since there’s little room in your closet-sized bedroom. You refuse to share your bedroom with your mother in this tiny trailer, if only because the woman would wake you up by trying to cut your throat. She insists on sparring with you, fighting you for every square inch of personal freedom. She thinks it makes you hard. Keeps you acting more troll and less human. Keeps you hungry. Keeps you craven and tough.  

This is not unusual though. Her mother raised her the same way and according to Eridan, Dualscar was very much the same way before he grew sick.

You unlock your huskdroid and see the Trollichum app is flashing with activity.

 

\--centaursTesticle began pestering apocalypseArisen at 10:05!—

CT: D --> Aradia, are you okay

CT: D --> I didn't see you at the bus stop

CT: D --> Or at sch001

CT: D --> Or in your classes

 

You smile a little.

 

\--apocalypseArisen began pestering centaursTesticle!—

AA: im fine equius

AA: i just wasnt feeling well this m0rning

AA: s0 i just stayed h0me instead 0f dragging myself t0 sch00l and having t0 leave halfway thr0ugh the day

CT: D -->I was just worried about you

CT: D -->Considering your current condition

AA: equius im n0t dying

AA: st0p w0rrying s0 much 0ver me

CT: D --> I cannot help it, Aradia

CT: D --> You know where we live is not the safest place for trolls or troll children

CT: D --> Or anyone if we are being honest here

AA: are you talking ab0ut the men in black?

AA: because they are n0t as frightening 0r tr0ubles0me as my m0ther i can assure y0u 0f that

CT: D --> How is Damara

AA: same as always

AA: which is t0 say

AA: shes a bluh bluh huge bitch and i despise her

CT: D --> Aradia, if you despise your mother so much, perhaps you should consider my offer to move in with me

CT: D --> Stress is bad for the grub

CT: D --> And your mother is no doubt a great source of stress

AA: n0pe

CT: D --> Why

 

Ugh. No. Not this conversation again. If you were to look up Equius Zahhak in the dictionary you would find a picture of a very sweet tempered blueblood with a deep love for hooved animals and a somewhat naïve outlook on the world, especially about the people closest to him. You try to use all your language skills to maneuver around this topic.

 

AA: y0ur trailers already cr0wded

CT: D --> It will only be a certain amount of time before Tavros moves in with one of those trolls he acts so l100d with

CT: D --> Or we could get a second trailer installed once we secure enough funds

CT: D --> Have it attached to the current unit

AA: i think we sh0uld wait until we have en0ugh funds to live 0n 0ur 0wn

CT: D --> Is there something wrong with where i live

AA: n0

AA: well

 

You groan.

 

AA: h0russ d0esnt like me equius

AA: like

AA: he despises me

CT: D --> What

CT: D --> You must be joking Aradia

CT: D --> You’re my matesprit and a decent troll as well

CT: D --> What is there to dislike exactly

AA: he d0esnt like me

AA: he d0esnt like my hem0type

AA: and he definitely d0esnt like my m0m wh0 is a bitch but he d0esnt need t0 be taking it 0ut 0n me

CT: D --> You know my father is a social conservative  

CT: D --> And he faces difficulty warming up to others

CT: D --> And he has a very stressful job at the hospital

CT: D --> He is facing even more stress dealing with Tavros and his…current rebellious attitude

 

Oh gods above and below; here come the excuses. Hold onto your safety bar, ladies and gentlemen, we are in for quite the ride.

 

AA: i understand that but still

AA: thats n0 reas0n t0 be angry with me

AA: equius y0u sh0uld h0nestly just listen t0 him

AA: and h0w he talks t0 me

AA: its all ven0m

AA: yeah my m0m is a bitch but i kn0w h0w t0 deal with her

AA: but h0russ is y0ur father

AA: y0u sh0uld be the 0ne t0 deal with him

AA: and i d0nt want t0 drive a wedge between the b0th 0f y0u 0ver s0mething this

CT: D --> My father knows that doing something like this is already driving a considerable wedge

CT: D --> But I will speak with him later to see if your description of this situation is accurate

AA: n0 equius d0nt d0 that

AA: im fine

AA: ill just wait until we can aff0rd 0ur 0wn place 0kay

AA: i d0nt want y0u t0 start fighting with y0ur father 0ver me

CT: D --> I will not tolerate my matesprit being treated in such a manner

CT: D --> Father or not

 

You groan. Stupid loyal idiot. You could be trying to throttle the life out of him and he’d still die with a smile on his face.Gods above, why did you imagine that? The visual of Equius grinning with his face blue as a blueberry twists your stomach. You try not to think about it. It’s bad enough he works with dangerous machinery and hazardous materials.

 

AA: 0kay equius

AA: just try n0t t0 end up 0n tr0ll maury 0ver this 0kay?

CT: D --> I would rather spout inappropriate language in front of wigglers than be subject to that l100d show

AA: i kn0w that

AA: take care equius <3

CT: D --> <3

 

You know those two little icons fluster him to no end. You enjoy seeing him a little flustered though; seeing the blue rise to his cheeks as he nervously sweats.

 

11:15 PM

Wriggling be damned, you’re not going to lay around all day and sleep off a hangover like certain adults you know (here’s a hint to the mysterious troll’s identity: they’re a redblood and they’re a miserable hag). You do the chores that need to be done around the trailer and make an appalling discovery in the back hallway: a mountain of laundry stinking up the available area.

This is something you will not tolerate.

You know very well your mother hates dirty clothes piling, but she loves to rile up your anger. You think she’s trying to turn into her little maid or raising your level of anger towards her from annoyance to true pitch.

Which isn’t happening in this life or the next.

You spend a good forty five minutes separating your clothes from hers, plopping yours in your Hello Krabby bag, and dragging that bag out the door with you. Thankfully the bus stop is only a ten minute walk and not crowded at this hour. The Laundromat on Park Avenue is quick and convenient, right next to the Nail Salon and the 7-11.

You sit on the bench and watch your delicate toss and turn in the machine. You look over and see a familiar face sitting only three feet away.

You nod to the blonde human, “Lalonde.”

She looks at you and smiles, showing the dimples in her cheeks. “Aradia. You know you can always call me Rose.”

“I like your surname though,” you say, “It rolls off the tongue. _La-Lon-De._ ”

“Kanaya says the same thing.” Her pale plum eyes look down, “It is from Old France. Normandy.”

“It’s amazing you were able to trace that since humans have an ancestry far more complicated than us trolls. I still can’t get it out of my mother who my father was, or my grandfather.”

“Human ancestry is made more complicated due to space travel and certain mutations that soon became common place. My eye color for example, would have been incredibly rare and unusual on Old Earth. It’s suspected that the human pilgrims that first arrived on New Earth consumed soporific herbs, thus leading to mutations of eye and skin color, along with the stillbirths reported in the early years.” She smiles at you, “Though I’m sure troll culture is just as complicated with hemotypism.”

“There have been a lot of changes since Old Alternia according to my mother. Mutantblood was greatly despised on Old Alternia due to the Signless’ Rebellion and seatroll blood prized above all else, especially the fuschiablood mutants.”

“I suppose it was the mass immigration of trolls from Alternia, to the artificial planet, and finally to New Earth that upset the balance of things then." 

You shrug. “No one is sure. There are no reliable surviving records or accounts of the time period between the Starfall, the destruction of Old Alternia, and the era of the False Emperor, the years spent on the artificial planet. All we have is the journal of the Helmsman Atramentous, who kept record of his coup d’etat against the False Emperor. But even his account of events is filled with supposed errors in time and he may have glossed over certain occurrences to paint himself in a better light.”

Lalonde grins. “It sounds like you’re ready for the history final.”

You smiles. “I’ve been talking with Equius. You know him and hard facts. He’s very much like his father in that regard.”

“I’ve only met Horuss once and met his _other_ son more than I care to admit.”

“He’s not exactly—”

And speak of the blueblood devil, Horuss walks into the Laundromat. Even off work, the man dresses like a doctor for the poor and desperate: goggles, gloves, and boots made of rubber or rubber-like material so bodily fluids just roll right off it. The only thing that stand out is the helmet he never removes. 

You could do it right now— you could stand up and confront the fucker in front of everyone. You share more than blood color with your mother after all. You have not forgotten how to scream and shout like you were calling down demons onto the earth. You could demand what the fuck his problem was.

Were you not good enough for his son?

Was it because of your mother?

Who in fuck was _he_ to judge, knowing the things his own father did?

You’re the first one to look away. You squirm on the bench. You may be your mother’s daughter but you don't have her personality. In the end, you are still you. And you are more like your father—whoever that may be. You look down at his tightly clenched fists. Lalonde moves to sit next to you. She touches your shoulder. You shut your eyes; draw a deep breath.

“I’m fine.” you whisper, “Just a little tired and...stressed and all.”

Her hand moves to your back, patting it. “Its only junior year, Aradia. One more year and we’ll be done.”

You shake your head, “It only means the real world is out there and we’ll be shoved out to do the same meandering jobs our parents are doing unless we have some talent. Some hope of escaping the cycle of poverty. Lalonde, you’re one of the few who’ll be set for life if you could get a scholarship. You could go to a university, like UCI.”

“ _If_ which is a pretty big _if._ There are a thousand people in our school who think they can ‘make it’ through scholarship, fame, or cheating their way through booze and sex. People all over New Earth, from poverty stricken places like Raffill and Leder, come to New Jack City thinking they can ‘make it’ and return home with broken hearts and shattered dreams.”

“Staying here isn’t going to help you though. If you want a future, you have to leave this place. You have to buy your way out. Move out to a place like Variance Beach or Twelve Acres, where even a troll like me could earn thirty thousand boon a year and just shrug it off. You have to buy yourself a new life in this city…”

You push a curled strand of hair out of your eyes. You look up at her,”…why aren’t you at school, Lalonde?”

Lalonde only squints a little. She has a perfect poker face. Sometimes you wonder if she’s related to Strider because they both seem to have mastered that skill. “Sometimes a break is necessary from the usual routine. Plus, I had things to do: liquor bottles to return to the store for the deposit.”

“How much did you get this time?”

She grins, “Three dollars.”

“That’s almost a record, Rose!”

You both laugh. You may be different species but you both have something in common: you are constantly at odds with your mothers. You chat the time away, forgetting Horuss entirely, and interchanging stories about why you can’t stand your female predecessor.

“—but I think the root of the matter is that she wants pitch from me, and I don’t hate her. I only despise her.”                                       

“I hear trolls use that word very often but I’m not sure about its connotation in your culture.”

“It is when you hate someone but not to the point of pitch. It’s closer to…someone you loathe. Someone that’s annoying to deal with but you don’t feel caliginous for, like a mosquito or rats. A platonic hatred.”

Rose smiles, “A pest, you mean.”

“ _Exactly_.” You stand, and smile at Lalonde, “It was nice talking to you, Lalonde. Take care and…try not to let those girls get to you. I honestly think you’re a lot prettier than they could ever hope to be.”

Lalonde looks down. A small smile spreads along her face. “Thank you, Aradia…but you’re not exactly the person I want to hear that from.”

“I know. I’m sure he’ll say it sooner or later.” You stuff the clothes back in the bag and pull the drawstrings, shutting the top of the bag.

“Should you be carrying that in your condition?”

“I’ll be fine, Lalonde. I’m only a few weeks along and rustbloods are pretty hardy. Our bodies can take a lot of punishment.”

“Take care, Aradia.”

You don’t look in Horuss’s direction as you leave the Laundromat.

* * *

2:21 PM

Two men wait at the door of your trailer. They are both lean, wearing broad hats and sunglasses. You see the orange-yellow-red of horns poking out of their brims. Trolls. Two trolls in nice suits waiting at your trailer door for someone to respond. Are these DD’s men bringing notes of eviction? Men from the government to tell you that the land’s been bought out and you have a week to vacate? You feel a lump in your throat.

“Can I help you gentlemen?”

They look over at you. Their clothes are bulky and even their claws are covered. You realize they’re wearing winter clothes, meant for trapping in the heat—except it’s the start of summer and its seventy degrees even in the shade. They’re not sweating either or looking ready to pass out.

 

“We are here. Discuss business wit’ you. Miss Megido.” says one man.

You walk closer to the men. They smell of coarse sea salt and coconut oil. You squint at their faces, trying to examine what little you can see under the scarves bunched up around their face and shades. Their skin is darker than New Jack City trolls. You can’t tell if it’s a tan or not. There are traces of ink along the skin as well. An ornate facial tattoo? With the shades on, you can’t tell.  

“We would like to be welcomed inside. Your domicile. Here.” says the other man. He points to your trailer, shades still trained on you.

Their English is at a stutter-stop pace; not even quality enough to be their second language. Most likely third or even fourth. They’re definitely not from New Jack City; not by any stretch of the imagination.

“I would like you to leave.” you say.

“Miss Megido. The matter concerns. Yo’ grub.” says the man in black.

“Please leave.”

“We could provide. Support for it. If you would like to discuss matters. Inside.”

You snarl and bare your sharp teeth, “ _GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BEFORE I CALL THE FUCKING COPS ON YOUR ASS!”_

The cops always crawl over to the trailerpark but they don’t seem to know that. “The fucking cops” is the magic word that banishes the two strange men. They take off running to their hunk-of-junk hovercar parked at the curb. You wonder if it’s their own transport or from a rental place. They jump in and zip off down the road, kicking up dirt and garbage.

Good fucking riddance.  

The last thing you want is the headache of dealing with creepy foreigners. Where were they even from? Their accent isn’t familiar to you and even you can recognize a voice raised in a piss poor place like Raffil or as charmingly southern as Bojangles.

You enter your trailer, dragging the laundry bag behind you. You kick the door shut, drop the laundry bag, and make sure it’s locked. Your mother is still asleep on the couch; unaware as a grub in its cocoon.

You grind your teeth and heft the large bag of laundry to your room. You gather your mother’s dirty unmentionables left abandoned the hallway in your arms and toss it at her. She awakens with a startled shout.

“What in the name of Blood and Haze are you fu—”

_“Do your godsdamned laundry, you lazy whore! It’s stinking up the fucking place!”_ you scream in Old Alternian.  

You stomp off to your room, ignoring any reply she shouts back.

* * *

3:15 PM

Your attempts to meditate away your anger fails when you don’t take into consideration that your body is exhausted from all the running around. Long story short: you take a nap and don’t wake up until your huskdroid vibrates. You look at the Trollichum app and thankfully, it’s not Equius saying he got into a fight with Horuss (or Nitram) in the middle of Walmart and needs bail money.

 

\--twinArmageddons began pestering apocalypseArisen at 3:00PM!—

TA: hey aa.

TA: ju2t wanted to 2ee how you were doiing.

TA: you weren’t iin 2chool.

 

You sit up with a growl. Your thumbs fly furiously over the miniscule keyboard.

 

\--apocalypseArisen became an active troll!—

 

AA: s0llux where in fuck have y0u been

AA: i tried talking t0 y0u 0nline

AA: y0u w0nt resp0nd

AA: i tried seeing y0u at sch00l

AA: y0u pretend im fucking invisible

AA: what in hell is g0ing 0n exactly

TA: ju2t.

TA: a lot of thiing2.

TA: ii’m 2orry aa.

TA: ju2t a lot on my miind.

AA: what is it

AA: did mituna d0 s0mething 0r did y0u l0se y0ur j0b

TA: no.

TA: ju2t.

TA: ii’m 2orta.

TA: heartbroken ii gue22?

TA: ii’m not 2ure how ii feel about...

TA: thiing2 that are going on riight now.

AA: s0llux what happened

TA: ii ju2t feel.

TA: overwhelmed ii gue22.

TA: ii cant talk two anyone.

AA: ill be right 0ver s0llux

AA: just h0ld 0n 0kay

TA: 2ure.

TA: whatever.

 

Oh gods. He’s gone into apathetic mode. That means Sollux is over Anger Hill and heading straight for Depression Avenue. So much for spending the day relaxing. You sit up and start looking for where you kicked off your shoes. You have a moirail to coddle and shooshpap. Hopefully this won’t take very long.

* * *

12:32 AM

You severely overestimated how bad the situation was. Your feet hurt. Your back hurts. You’re more exhausted than a double shift at ShopRite (which you have to show up at for first shift in about eight hours). But at least your moirail is comforted now and won’t have a psionically charged flip-out at his mentally handicapped father.

You walk down the road lit by street lights, hearing the sound of far off car alarms. 

Are you afraid of attackers? Very much so. Is there anything you can do about it? Not much besides give said-attacker a once over with your horns and fists before they get anything out or from you.

You look over at the Vantas trailer and see a light in the window. Karkat is up. You look over at the Strider trailer and see a silhouette moving. Dave is up. The lights are on in the Makara-Leijon trailer; most likely welcoming that new guest of theirs that arrived yesterday.

You wonder if it’s just your generation or if every kid in New Jack City is up and about. Only Sollux is asleep after your hours of pale shooshing.

You walk further down the road, turning a corner into Shaker Hill Road. You walk past the Zahhak trailer. It is quiet; not even the faint sound of machinery grinding away. Horuss’s hovercar is not in the driveway so he must still be at work. Nitram sits on the cracked wooden steps. The tip of his cigarette glows bright orange in the darkness. Tobacco smoke wafts up to heaven in a steady stream.

You try to walk past him.

“Equius and Horuss had a fight today,” he says to you, casually, “I wonder about what though? Equius has always been the prized blue apple of Horuss’ eye; his little beryl prince. It couldn’t have been about the bills. It couldn’t have been about his grades. So it must have been about a certain rustblood in his flush quadrant...”

You don’t look at him, “I don’t want to have this conversation; especially with _you.”_

“And what’s wrong with me?”

“You’ve become an unpleasant person, Tavros.” 

“Unpleasant?” You can hear the snide grin in his damn voice, “Just how am I _‘unpleasant’?_ Just because of what Equius says of me? Tell me: what secrets does he whisper to you as he fucks you in the _just_ the right way? I mean, he can’t be too rough because that would kill you but you like the bruises…don’t you?”

Tavros get off the wood stoop and walks over. He smells of weed and frustration. 

You look at him, “Stop taking out your pitch frustrations with Equius on me. Why does everyone feel the need to take out their anger on _me?”_

“The frustration has to go somewhere, Megido. Our parents take it out on us. We take it out on each other, and our future brats…well, gods save _those_ little shits if we do reproduce.” Tavros blows out a plume of smoke with a low purr, “It must drive you crazy though: to wonder why Horuss hates you so much when you’re the sweetest girl around, right? Poor little Aradia: the creepy little warmblood girl that Horuss’s blueblood prince fell for while his brownblood peasant son is left to wilt in the snow…”

You glare at him. Nitram smirks.

“Like a shitty fairytale, except it ends with the both of you in grinding poverty for the rest of your lives because Equius has an obnoxious peeping mouth to feed before he could actually build up enough revenue for the both of you to live comfortably. Or maybe that doesn’t happen. Maybe you do the sensible thing. Maybe you _don’t_ have that little shit so Equius can get the fuck out of this sewer pit they call a trailerpark.”

You slap him across the face. The cigarette drops to the ground. He stumbles back and touches his face, a little surprised. Then he looks at you with a wide smirk.

“Heh. You _are_ your mother’s daughter. Are you going to list your prices next—”

You knee him in the bulge. Nitram yelps, biting his dark grey tongue. He goes down quick, cursing and holding his aching nether regions. You grin wide and step over him. Your trailer is at the far end of the road. You have a long way to walk. Your feet and back ache but you don’t care anymore.

You hum an old Alternian song.

_I will buy you a garden,_   
_Where your flowers can bloom,_   
_I will buy you a new car,_   
_Perfect shinny and new,_   
_I will buy you that big house,_   
_Way up in the west hills,_   
_I will buy you a new life,_   
_Yes I will._

You are ninety percent sure that’s an old rustblood hymn.


End file.
